Posts Tagged ‘ children ’

Ten Things Kids Get Away With…That Adults Can’t

Thursday, March 6th, 2014

Joe DeProspero has two sons, a wife, and is complimentary birth control for anyone who sits near him in a restaurant. His writing has been described as “outrageous,” “painfully real,” and “downright humiliating.” He talks about the highs and unsettling lows of parenthood. Author of the dark comedy fiction novel “The Boy in the Wrinkled Shirt,” Joe is working on releasing a parenting humor book. He currently lives in New Jersey and can be emailed at jdeprospero@gmail.com or followed on Twitter @JoeDeProspero.

It truly is remarkable how many atrocious acts children are able to get away with, under the guise of “they’re only kids.” And frankly, I don’t think it’s fair that age should determine social etiquette. I mean, do these cretins think they’re above the law? Anyway, here is a series of infractions where I think kids (and even babies) need to mind their manners and shape up!

Blatantly throwing food on the floor

Seriously? There’s a ball right there in your hand. Throw that instead! And it’s not like macaroni and cheese even makes a satisfying noise when it hits a tile floor. I see no logic behind this senseless, selfish act. Adults could never do this as there’d be no one to clean it up.

Touching someone else for no reason

This is something that kids do without consequence until they’re about 17. Babies, toddlers, and adolescents alike have been touching people’s butts and faces for centuries without a care in the world. Adults would definitely not be able to get away with this sober.

Saying dinner is “gross”

My son often tells my wife that the dinner she prepared is “gross” or “yucky.” However, when I say the same exact thing? Suddenly it’s this major issue. Adults clearly cannot get away with blatantly insulting a chef/spouse to his or her face.

Throwing a tantrum in the mall

It seems like kids save their absolute worst, most uncontainable fits for when you’re trekking through a department store with 12 bags, a stroller, four jackets, and zero patience. But imagine an adult acting in such a manner. You bring a sale item to the register, only to discover that item is now full price. So you start convulsing on the floor and knocking down clothes racks. You would probably be banned from the mall. But if your kid did the same thing, everyone would have a hearty chuckle and go on with their day. Fair?

Biting people

You’re a child, not George “The Animal” Steele. I mean, really.

Staring at boobs

If there ever were an activity that yielded either giggles or unrivaled anger, depending on the age of the perpetrator, it’s this. The rule seems to go: If you’re three, more breasts for thee. If you’re 38, here comes the hate.

Opening someone else’s gifts

We’ve all seen this. Little Emma is perfectly capable of tearing wrapping paper on her own, but Dylan is  blind to that fact, callously pushing her out of the way to open a present that’s not even his! Try doing this beyond the age of 10 and suddenly, no one wants you involved in their Secret Santa.

Refusing to get dressed

Has your kid ever insisted on staying in their pajamas when you need to be out the door to get him to school so you can be on time for an important meeting? If you said “no,” then your kid is probably in utero. Every child over the age of 18 months suddenly gets very specific about when and by whom they’d like to be dressed. Such Prima donnas. Then they demand exactly 2 ½ strawberries and ¾ glass of milk with their cereal. It’s like dealing with a self-important Hollywood starlet in diapers.

Climbing on countertops/tables

Kids are like mini, drunk adults when they’re misbehaving. No clearer example of this is their constant decision to do their impression of any and every four-legged animal on the dining room table. I tried being “cute” once and joined in. My head smashed into the hanging light fixture, my knees ached, and the looks on the faces of the other people at Outback Steakhouse were definitely not encouraging.

Crying when barely injured

My 4-year-old stubbed his toe on his dresser the other day and wailed like he’d been set on fire.  Incidentally, that very same dresser nearly brought me to tears a few years earlier (when I had to pay for it). But sometimes I think he’s exaggerating. There are times when he cries because his socks are too tight. He’ll make a terrific professional wrestler. Or a LeBron James.

You hear the term “double standard” thrown around quite often. But rarely is anything ever done to change it. All I’m asking is that we hold these children accountable for their butt-touching, food-throwing, gift-ruining ways. Then, and only then, will there be justice, and clean floors.

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Image: Slingshot photo courtesy of Shutterstock.com

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Would You Trade Romance for Glue on Valentine’s Day?

Friday, February 15th, 2013

This Valentine’s Day Cynthia Roelle, mom to a 2½-year-old daughter and award-winning photographer, says goodbye to roses, chocolate and romance and shares how the holiday has taken on a new meaning since having a child.

Do couples with small children still celebrate Valentine’s Day? I mean with roses, chocolate, and romance? Because we sure don’t. I can’t tell you the last time my husband I spent a truly romantic occasion together. But that doesn’t mean love isn’t the heart of the holiday.

This Valentine’s was all about our daughter’s love for glue. Man does she love glue. If something breaks she pipes up with “we can glue it!” And the more glue the better. Why use a dollop when you could use great gooey globs of it? We go through bottles and bottles of glue at our house. It’s the stuff that holds our family together.

Yet somehow this fact escaped me when I planned some Valentine’s Day crafts for me and my daughter to make together. Four. I planned four glueless crafts and she wanted no part of any of them. Somewhat reluctantly, I scrapped the plan and broke out the glue. Did she ever go to town.

This Valentine’s Day won’t go down in the annals of romance and our craft won’t be an instant hit on Pinterest. But that’s okay. It was filled with love. Okay, so it was her love for glue more than anything else but still. I loved every minute of our time together and loved watching her glue with glee. My husband loved the floppy heart craft and basked in her delight when she presented him with it.

I wouldn’t trade any part of it for all the roses and chocolate in the world. I only wish I could bottle the love and let my daughter squirt it all over the world.

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You Know You’re Crazy When…

Monday, October 15th, 2012

…right before you get on a plane with your husband, you email your closest girlfriends, your aunt and your brother a document titled “Final Wishes” that spells out exactly how you want your children raised, what type of schooling they should have and what sort of life you want them to live should you perish.

Yes folks, it’s called rock bottom crazy and I hit it last week.

Phil and I were flying to a wedding in Sante Fe. This is the first time we left both kids behind. Something I regretted and vowed to never do again. (Though drinking until 1 a.m. at the wedding and then sleeping in was a treat so I may retract that sentence.)

Earlier in the week I had our will all updated, legal guardians set, etc. But then the what-ifs started to creep into my brain. In a last minute frenzy I typed up the document and sent it out. Thing is, I didn’t feel crazy. Still don’t really. It made me feel saner.

After my cousin was killed earlier this year, I figured that having your bases covered was prudent. My aunt and brother agreed. My two girlfriends told me to go back to my shrink (who happens to be a hypnotherapist). I am heeding their advice, but more for my general need for a tune-up.

Needless to say, we got back safe and sound. My heart was aching for my babies and I said I wouldn’t leave them again. Then a work gig came up and 48 hours later I found myself flying to New York. Ack. But it was a quick 1-day shoot and I was back. My plane didn’t crash. And Phil didn’t go, so at least one of us would be around, god forbid.

My next trip is in a month. To Vegas. With one of my best–and most fun–friends. (Yes Dena, I’m talking about YOU!). Phil will stay home, so I’m covered. But after that, I swear, I’ll never leave my kids again… or on second thought, just seek the professional help I clearly need.

Anyone else want to tell me their version of crazy to make me feel better?

 

Airplane picture courtesy of Shutterstock

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